


Spread Like Wings, Cure Like Cancer

by ToodleOfDeeth



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), The Yogscast
Genre: Blood, Blood Magic, Minecraft, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-07 14:38:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1902759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToodleOfDeeth/pseuds/ToodleOfDeeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ridge, as a demi-god, has to investigate when anything new comes into the lands that he protects for his friends. He sticks his fingers in every pie, tracks every mob and investigates every import. So when a meteorite strikes his territory its his duty to look at it and deem it safe before leaving it there, or to take it away before others can touch it. But boredom makes his actions fuzzy, and taking a friend, both getting infected with something unknown and spreading it like a wild fire obviously causes problems. It seems so close to being cure-able, but it effects everyone differently. See how this single rock makes everything go to total chaos, and how the simple people under Ridge's rule cope with the possibly permeant changes. Friendships tear, tears are shed and some of the unlikeliest people get close, people don't really know what will happen next.</p><p>DISCONTINUED SORRY.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 0, Effect spore landed.

As a demi-god, Ridge was inclined to investigate everything new that came into the world he’d created for his friends. He needed to stick his fingers in every pie, to sort though every export and to make sure every animal was listed and made sure to be safe. His duty was to protect, but some things he couldn’t help but slip.

He’d been looking though crates of marble to make sure no silverfish were imbedded in the goods. It was being sent to Hat corp, they’d requested 24 crates of the stuff. In all honesty is seemed mad to order so much, but the architect, Ross, did seem to blast though the stuff quickly.

He was on his fifth crate when his close friend, Bebop, rumbled down the stairs with the grace of a hippopotamus. He let his robotic feet clatter on the concrete floor of the docks, before making his face into one that looked like a grin. His metallic voice rang out as he addressed the other man, “Hey! Ridgedog! How’s it going with you?”

Everything about Bebop rang noise. His voice was cheery and often slightly broken. His feet where solid metal and had complex mechanisms that allowed him to hover a little over 4 inches in the air. Due to him previously working as a soldier in his old world he had power cores in every major point in the body, chest, head, one per leg and one per arm. He had little red circles hidden under a red glass to represent eyes and his feet were just cylinders rather than actual feet, but were also painted like fire similar to that of a car’s.

Sighing, Ridge addressed his friend, “I’m only on my fifth crate and I’ve got twenty three more to go,” He wined, “Why do those Batty hatters have to import so much marble?”

Making his face look like one of pity, Bebop clunked over and pulled himself up onto a crate. “Cheer up pup, Surely if it’s so bad you can just push it over until tomorrow or something, right?”

“But it is!” he moaned, “If I don’t do it now all the work I’ve just done will be rendered useless! The silverfish can just crawl into the ones I’ve already sorted, and then I’ll still have to do them later. I just with that something more interesting would happen. Sorting though imports is just one of the many things I have to go though, but I’d much rather monitor progress or look though caves to ensure they’re still spawning stuff or poke about on meteorite sites to find bacteria. Is it really so hard for the gods to find someone else to do that?”

Bebop looked down at Ridge, who was now lying on the floor on his back. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply after his outburst. His coat was spread wise over the floor, covering it in the rich purple material.

The silence seemed to last for a long while, and the only real sound was the occasional click that came from the joints in Bebop’s body.

And just like that the silence was broken, “Okay then,” the metal man didn’t really know what to say.

When Ridge’s eyes peeled open to look at the robot, and just as he was about to speak a low boom was sounded in the distance, making the torches on the walls shake in their holders. Bebop leapt off the crate in panic as he felt the cabling inside him quake and rumble, sending his hard drive into spasms.

“What Is that?” He squeaked as he crouched on the floor.

Ridges eyes had lit up like a Christmas tree and his mouth was pulled up into a grin. “That sounded like a meteorite!” he squealed.

Bebop looked less than impressed, “Oh no, Lets hope it didn’t hit anything too important. Should I leave you to it?”

“No, no, come with me! We should look at it together! I mean, the experience could come in handy for you! Looking at stones and stuff that you’ve never seen before could give you a leg up should you encounter it again with another person by your side. You do want to be an evil genius after all, and being able to look at stuff like this could help you develop something evil.”

With a wurr and a hum Bebop stood to become eye level with ridge, “Well… What harm can it do?”

“That a Boy! Come on! Lets go!”

 -------- 

Approaching the site of the crash proved to be no match for the two, as one was currently immortal and the other unable to breath in the poisonous gasses or have the fire harm him. A thin film of yellow-ish goo was spread over the surrounding area, smeared on trees like spider’s webs and covering ponds like algae. The main area of the crash was churned up like crumbled cookies, with dirt and stone layered over the once green grass.

The meteorite was imbedded in the floor.

It was a large black stone, with the yellow gloop draped over it, and was oozing from the vein like cracks in the stone. The goo was producing the fowl smell of sulphur, and the yellow stained mist coming from it was never a good sign.

As they reached the actual meteorite bebop couldn’t help but let out a low whistle at the damage. “It looks like that time Honeydew got hold of a stack of TNT!”

Ridge slid down the slope to the stone, getting his boots, hands and coat tails covered in the glowing slime. He approached the rock. “It doesn’t look like any thing I’ve ever seen, we should probably call the Gods to look at it,” he muttered, more to himself than to his friend who’d slid down beside him.

“Its obviously dangerous, too. I mean, look at that smoke…”

“I really don’t think I should be here Ridge” Bebop sounded concerned, the little red lights behind his eye shield were half covered to look like his eyebrows were raised.

Ignoring his friends concerns Ridge leaned down and continued to mumble, “a yellow film covers the area… looks like congealed dragon saliva… possibly toxic, not acidic… Seems to be flammable…” he tightened his jaw before raising his head to look up into the blue sky.

The clouds seemed to be cycling the area around the crash, but not brewing into a storm. They were wispy, like sulphur clouds found in the Nether and stained a mustardy brown. With a wince, Ridge addressed his robotic friend. “I don’t think we should poke about here Bebop, especially not you.”

“Yeah, I said that.” He muttered as he began to back away. He felt woozy and light headed. He didn’t know it yet, but he had the human equivalent of an upset stomach. He slumped against the stump of a tree that had fallen down the hole, forcing himself not to submit to the ill feeling he had. He felt hot, like he was swimming in lava. He clutched his knee as one of his power cores went out, and slumped forward as another shut down. He had no control over the lights in his eyes went out, rendering him blind. Ridge rushed o his side just before his ability to hold himself up went too.

“Bebop! Are you ok?” He sounded distant.

“R-ridge,” he mumbled weakly, “Get us out of here, now.”

Ridge didn’t even think twice before scooping up his friend and flying away from the site.

\------------ 

Ridge landed with a clump on the top of his tower. He staggered slightly with the heavy weight in his arms before dropping it unceremoniously onto a workbench on the other side of the room. His heaving breaths echoed though the empty building as he rushed to find a towel or cloth to wipe off the strange yellow substance off with.

When he returned only to find one power core left alive, and that one was fading fast. He rushed to plug a cable into the back of Bebop’s head to sustain it, even if only for while.

He brought one of the towels to his friend’s legs and bean to rub the odd liquid off of the smooth metal. He did this with both the legs before moving to his hands, arms and chest, muttering a chant of “Please be ok” all the while.

 He found his toolbox under the worktable and began to unscrew the panels that lead to the levitation devices in his legs.

“God damn,” he muttered as the damage became apparent.

Goo had begun to melt the plastic surrounding the wires inside his structure, making them spark and damage the coating on the Power cores. The coating over the cores was designed to cool them and channel the heat to another part of the body, namely the head, thus the reason for the lights going off in his head along with the camera. The little hard drive connected to the movement mechanism had begun to melt, making his leg bent like it was when he was sitting down. He was a mess.

Ridge cleared the muck from inside his friend slowly and delicately as to not damage him further, biting his lip as he did. But he began loosing hope when he saw the memory cores in his chest had burnt to a shell and the features drive in the head being mauled to resemble a brain more than a flat piece of machinery.

 “Why,” he muttered to the sky, “Why was I so stupid?”

He felt as if he was choking as he worked. His chest felt heavy and swollen. His back ached from how long he’d been standing and his hands had little cuts and scratches from the wires he’d cut. His eyes were red from the little diamond-like tears that rolled softly down his cheeks and onto the silk shirt he wore. A sob was wrenched from his throat, before he berried his head in his hands.

The only noise echoing though the tower were his muffled tears being shed.

Day 1, it begins

\----------- 

Ridge was awoken with a sharp kick to his side and a chuckle from someone’s throat.

He peeled his eyes open, but the wish-wash of morning colours invading his vision made him groan. The marble on the floors and walls reflected the colour onto other parts of the building that had never been lit with such a light.

As he tore his gaze from the colours his neck screamed at him from lying on the floor all night. His back ached from resting on the cold, hard floor and his shoulder blades were swollen and red. He hadn’t even taken off his coat.

He didn’t pay attention to the multiple pains he felt because of the man- or robot- standing over him and blocking some of the bright light surrounding him.

It was Bebop. Sanding over him with a crooked grin on his metallic face, he addressed the demi-god on the floor in front of him, “ Nice sleep, princess?”

Ridge was too shocked for words to reply.

Bebop spoke again, “ Not gonna say hi?”

“You’re alive?” Ridge ignored the question, but cringed at his raspy voice.

“Well, yeah, duh. But what am I doing here? What happened?”

Ridge attempted to get up, but a sharp pain in his back made him think twice about it. He let out a cry as sharp twinge went tough his body, making his eyes see white for a moment before he collapsed back onto the floor with a wheeze coming heavily from his lungs. He closed his eyes and groaned as the blend of colours moved into his vision once again. His brain throbbed.

Suddenly serious, Bebop leaned down onto his haunches so that he was closer to Ridge’s level, “You okay there, buddy?”

No reply.

Bebop didn’t really know what to do, just like when he’d woken up that morning in Ridge’s base.

He’d awoken on a worktable and so knew nothing humiliating had happened the night before, but the fact his maintenance panels were open confused him to what had happened. He’d pulled his parts inside and closed the hatches on his legs and chest before realising something was wrong.

He felt lighter, like he’d lost a power core or shed his outer shell. All of his main components remained though, and even if Ridge were to change around his machinery there’d be no way that he’d be able to make him lighter.

Now Bebop _really_ didn’t know what to do. Ridge had rolled onto his stomach, letting his rumpled coat see the light of day again. But bebop wasn’t paying attention to that, He was more interested in staring at the large bulges that were showing though his coat.

“What’s this, Ridge?” he questioned, before realising his friend had passed out. He was so confused.

But then, seeing the surgical tools on a bench near by, he knew what to do.

Snatching a pair of sheers off of the bench he began to slice though the silken coat on Ridge’s back, letting the delicate pieces of fabric slide off of his milky white skin. He observed the large red budges under his skin that started at his shoulder blades and ended at his lower back, with little pieces of what looked like glass cutting though the swollen red skin.

That’s when Bebop picked a scalpel off of the bench and began to slice along where the glass cut though skin. He started at the shoulder and let the knife slide down until it reached the end of the bump at his lower back. He did the same on the other side.

Then, carefully reaching under the skin, he attempted to pull out the glass structure. Only problem was when he reached the shoulder, where the structure seemed to be made of the same material as the bone.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” he whispered as he realised just what was beneath the swollen skin of Ridge’s Back.

Wings. A pair of glass wings was spread eagle on the floor, connected to the bones in his back. The feathers were instead replaced with what looked like shards of glass and refracted the morning light to cast rainbows onto the floor. They looked like little knifes, sharp and menacing and ready to slice hands off that got too close.

Bebop reached out to touch them. They twitched. He giggled awkwardly. He knew this was going to be a long and drawn out experience.


	2. Day 2, Source of infection found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ridge harnesses what he's grown. Bebop gets jealous.

Now, Ridge had seen a lot in his long life. He’d seen castles rise and fall, people live and die, but none of that stuff could have prepared him for this.

He was in the main bedroom, dragged there the day before by his metal friend, and was somehow put in bed with all his clothes still on. He really needed to teach Bebop the concept of clothing on humans, but that was nowhere near the main priorities he had right now. Right now he was more concerned about how in the seven hells Bebop figured out how to cut open his back without antithetic, pull the skin back and pull two massive wings from his back like a rabbit out of a hat. And how he managed to stitch up his back, drag him to bed and to shut down on the floor at the end of his bed.

Speaking of Bebop, right now he was gushing about how he’d managed to cut open Ridge and have him live. “For fucks sake Bebop.” Ridge muttered as he clutched at the ends of his hair, wanting to tear it out because _how the literal fuck_ did he do it?

“You say that to me, pup, but you sprouted wings like a mooshroom does mushrooms! What’s with that?”

Ridge got up from the bed; wincing as the leather boots he still wore from the night before stuck to his clammy skin. He felt the little stitches in his back twitch with the muscles beneath moving to adjust to the new weight on his shoulders. The weight was… odd to say the least. It weighed him down when they dragged on the floor, but seemed to almost belong. They seemed to ground him, give him an assurance that he’s still on the floor. He almost felt like they deserved respect for that; sometimes even his friends and family couldn’t make him feel that.

All respect he had immediately vanished when he looked at his back in the mirror.

“Bebop, you butchered me!”

“I did not! You moved when I was cutting them out!” he protested in a whiney voice.

Ridge tuned around again in the mirror, seeing the little glass pieces of his wings swish like a cape. He thinned his lips, biting on the bottom thoughtfully as he worked out if they were big enough to fly, or small enough to hide under his coat. He attempted to move them by rolling his shoulder blades and moving his arms, but all they did was twitch slightly. He slouched over and tensed his muscles in his back and to his surprise; they began to rise into a curved position over his back. He clenched his stomach and they stretched further up so that the tips of them just brushed the ceiling. He stood up straight again, relaxing his stomach but not his back, and they were fully drawn out behind him. When he relaxed fully they almost folded neatly on his back, but applying the pressure to his stitches made him mutter a strangled “ouch”.

“I don’t think you should be called Ridge Dog any more, maybe ‘Bumpy Bird?’” Bebop teased from behind him, a little mischievous smirk somehow being applied to his features.

“Shut up Bebop.” He muttered, but there was no real malice behind the words, and were said more like wonder than annoyance.

Confused. Bebop stood up from the chair and wandered over. He looked in the mirror at Ridge, seeing the zoned-out expression lining his features.

“Shut up Bebop.” He muttered, but there was no real malice behind the words, and were said more like wonder than annoyance.

Confused. Bebop stood up from the chair and wandered over. He looked in the mirror at Ridge, seeing the zoned-out expression lining his features.

Quizzically he reached forwards to touch the base of the wings, hoping to see if they moved unwillingly or were sensitive to the touch.

They were.

With a little squeak Ridge beat his wings, strong enough for the little dirt and dust particles that had settled on the floor to roll around in little clouds. It was strong enough to lift him from the ground, about a meter up, before dropping once again ungracefully onto the hard floor. He rubbed his tailbone where he landed and looked up into Bebop’s surprised face.

“You did the thing!” Bebop said excitedly, ignoring the way Ridge stood up and began to examine his wings once again. “You did the- the flying! This is awesome dude!” Bebop wouldn’t stop gushing about how Ridge had flown, even if slightly. “Do you think you could fly higher? Could you carry things? Are they sensitive? Can you feel them when I touch them?”

Ridge got to his feet and walked towards the edge of the tower, a look of determination on his face. He got to the ledge before finally listening to what his metallic friend was asking- or rather just spewing forth what his brain made up with no filter. One of the queries caught Ridge’s attention, and made him step away from the ledge.

“They look like glass. Are they glass? If so, will they shatter? Could they be melted in a furnace? Will falling too hard break them? Would all of it break? If not, would you be able to fly without one of the bits being there? If they break, will it grow back like bone or will you have to do it yourself? Can you even control them?”

He decided to test the control theory.

“Bebop?” Ridge broke the ramblings, “ Where about on my wings did you touch me?”

“Under the connection between your shoulders and your back, why?”

Ridge tried to move the area Bebop had described, feeling his wings gently move up and down like you’d expect them to on a bird or bat. They made a faint tinkle sound like a chandelier or necklace would. He moved them faster, and with a little yelp he rose from the floor again. This time, he didn’t fall to the floor, but instead kept beating them to continue making dust clouds on the floor. He gave a hoot of joy as he stabled himself to almost a hover; managing to keep his balance was hard but not impossible.

Bebop looked at him in amazement. He got up off the floor and laughed at the delighted expression his friend wore. He stood back a few feet to give space for Ridge to land, only just letting his feet hit the floor before rushing over to gush about how epic it looked.

“Holy shit!” Ridge beamed, laughing.

“You’re telling me! Look at you, dude! You can fly! With wings and not that bullshit creative mode like you did before!”

“I know right?”

Suddenly serious, Bebop whispered, “But what about me?”

Surely the gloop couldn’t’ have _just_ effected Ridge, right? He was _covered_ in the stuff before, and he suffered symptoms earlier than Ridge had too. He was the one who’d suffered before, too. What was this bullshit?

“Um,” Ridge paused, “Just wait and see?” he offered, “It might not even affect robots, and we don’t even know what that junk was,”

“This is bullshit.” Bebop whined, “ Why do you always get the cool stuff? I want to be cool too!”

“If something happens you’ll find out in time. This doesn’t necessarily mean you wont get any, it could change you slowly for all I know.”

“What was that stuff ridge?”

“I don’t know”

“Will it spread?”

“Possibly.”

“Can it be cured?”

“With time, anything can happen”

“Do you want it to be cured?”

A pause

“I don’t really know, Bebop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try and update this weekly. Lets hope you like the chapter!


	3. Day 3: Discord imminent.

As a businessman, William Strife was capable of handling things a lot of people would call too daunting to take on. He’d take a bog and form a company off of the land; he’d make a weapon out of toothpicks and could, very rarely he reminds us, turn copper into gold. Solutions were his forte. This, however, was a problem even he didn’t know how to fix.

BebopVox was stood before him in the evening light; casting a shadow onto the floor that only just reached the front door of his compound. Bebop stood tall and straight, not unlike how Strife would stand while addressing a problem. His eyes glowed a menacing red and the paint on the ends of his legs made it look like he was literally on fire, but the sun probably made that effect more prominent.

Along side the robot stood the watcher of the land himself, the menace known as Ridgedog. Although on several occasions the Demi-god came to pester him and interfere with his progress it was obvious this wasn’t the case today. His eyes were cold like ice, and his features expressionless. His boots shined and his coat bellowed in the gentle breeze, but this isn’t what made Strife stare.

Perched on the man’s back was a set of glass-like wings that glinted in the low light. They were not too large, just going above his shoulders and dipping just below his waist, but still gave him a distinct air of dominance, more so than he had before. The glass feathers cast intricate patterns onto the trimmed grass, almost like the stained glass windows you find in churches.

Strife gulped before addressing the two men before him, “Hello gentlemen,” he managed to get out, surprisingly smoothly despite the sense of dread that pooled in his stomach. “Can I help you?”

Ridge smile was just as cold as his eyes, making a shiver flutter up his spine. “Very direct, as always, Strife. Lets go inside, after all it is scheduled to rain tonight.”

Strife gulped and moved to the side to let the men pass. When they got inside the comforting sound of machinery filled the air, making the area seem more close and compact than the almost silent outside. The torched were on and blazing a gentle orange, making the odd wings on Ridges back seem to glow like they’d done outside just before. Bebop’s metallic skin reflected the light too and made little spot of light on the floor similar to how a disco ball would.

Walking though a door to the right he pulled out a few chairs for them to sit on. Only Bebop took one. “How can I help you gentlemen?” Will attempted to lighten the situation by getting straight to the point.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Bebop replied from where he was sat.

Ignoring his friend’s rudeness, Ridge enlightened the man in front of him, “Yesterday Bebop and I went to investigate a meteorite site. I, in my foolish boredom, offered for Bebop to tag along and he obviously agreed. Only problem was that this meteorite seemed to have negative effects me and we aren’t sure if it’s infective, what its effects are and how to fix it. This is where you come in.”

“We have managed to grab a sample of what we got infected with and now we’ve come to you to perhaps get some answers to our questions. Are you willing to… give it a go?”

“What’s in it for me? And how can you promise that I wont get infected?”

Snorting, Ridge pulled a bag from his inventory, “We can’t promise that you won’t get infected,” he opened the bag, “But I can say that the rewards are greater than you think,” he pulled out two cigars, offered one to Strife and after his refusal he dropped it back into the bag. He grabbed a lighter.

“What’s in it for me?” he repeated stubbornly.

The lighter clicked but no flame appeared.

“You get to cure a Demi-god of something we’ve never encountered before,”

_Click_. No light.

“You’ll be the one in the history books, the one everyone remembers and the one to dish out the antidotes.”

_Click_. No light.

“You’ll be seen as a hero and as a source of knowledge for others.“

_Click_. No light.

“Don’t you want that?”

_Click_. Light.

“You’ll also get my trust,” Bebop added in at the end, “That’s good considering I’m hoping to become an evil genius of some sort. You could be on my side.”

Strife squinted at the two men in front of him, humming as he considered his options. “Why come to me? Why not Duncan? I’m a mechanic, not a chemist.”

“You don’t have as many people to see on a day to day basis, you’ll get it done quicker and have a lesser chance of infecting others.”

A gentle tapping on the glass began to echo around the large tower, alerting the men inside to the rain beginning to fall outside. It pattered and grew heavy in a matter of seconds with thunder ringing though the glass. Strife was looking up at the skylights just as lighting flashed. He looked down.

“I’ll do it,”

“It’s the right choice,”

“On one condition.” He interrupted Bebop before he could continue. He looked up at the pair in front of him, continuing when he got a nod of allowance, “I’d like to know what’s wrong with you both and how it happened. Not to mention samples of blood and of infected material.”

“Done,”

“ Possibly a vial of the odd liquid that caused this,”

“Can do,”

“ And free access to the crash site where this ‘meteorite’ landed.”

At that, Ridge paused, “What if you get infected?”

“I’ll deal with that.” He answered unreassuringly, “Now, about those blood samples…”

\----------------

Rain washed down the maroon and basalt sides of the Solution tower. The glass on the roof was the only way to see into the night sky, and the water washing off of them and onto the grounds below made the oddly shaped moon a large white blur in the sky. The torches outside flickered, but refused to go out under the heavy downpour.

On the bottom floor the lights were dimmed, making the sharp corners on the ceiling more prominent as weak torches attempted to scrape at the bitter darkness. The other floors of the tower were almost empty and the lights did little to better the gloom that lingered. On the top floor were the living quarters and a single candle that had almost blown out only lighted that.

The candle was set on a china plate, welded together though years of wax, and that was set on a desk that looked out of place with how old it was. The dead wood had papers strewn across it, and a few pens had rolled off onto the floor. There was a chair to its front, partially tucked under.

On this chair was the sleeping body of William Strife, who had fallen asleep with the ink off the page smeared on his face.

Various words were littered over the pages he slept on and in a flash of lightning you could make out words of science that mad the usual mans mind question humanity, but made his buzz with excitement. They spoke of an infection, of bacteria and of a mystery that he didn’t know how to unfold. There were sketches and descriptions of what was shown, but as the candle blew out in a little puff of wind, the sketches merged with the darkness that consumed the tower.

This is when a creek sounded followed by a thud of a body falling to the floor. A moan of pain came out as the rain outside became heavier still and a flash of lightning temporarily caught on the open eyes of his sill body. The desk remained in place, but another pen fell to the floor beside the others.

Another moan echoed around the empty building, followed by the rustling of fabric. Thunder boomed and with a scream the sleeping body on the floor lurched without waking. He writhed and his body quaked. He rolled onto his belly and scrambled to get up off the cold floor.

Now he was awake he rushed on his hands and knees towards a bucket in the corner. He clutched it to his chest, the cool metal pressed against his burning chest as he emptied his stomachs contents. He let out another moan of pain before hanging his head over it. He let out a sob and placed it on the floor so he could curl in on himself.

His tongue was bleeding. He hadn’t even realized he’d bit it until he’d tasted the battery like substance. He let out another sob, but this time more out of fear than pain. A single silvery tear rolled down his cheek and onto the white floor. When he looked at it however, he didn’t see water, he saw blood.

He spat to his side and watched the red splat on the floor. He sat wide-eyed and felt more of the blood fall off of his cheeks and into a puddle on the floor.

For some odd reason he didn’t feel the pain of letting the blood flow. He didn’t hate the foul battery-like taste in his mouth. He felt woozy, sure, but more like when he hadn’t slept for long enough rather than like he was about to pass out. He let out a nervous chuckle and felt his saliva and blood fall down his chin. He didn’t wipe it away. He looked at the flashes of lightning from the skylights and full out laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

Again he spat.

He unconsciously traced the cut marks up his arm. He felt a needle like pain where he’d ran over. He looked down and saw little beads of blood rolling down his arm and soaking into his shirt. It had damp marks where the blood had rolled off onto it, and the smell _oh lord, the smell._

The smell made his chest burn and his stomach throb, his head spin and his eyes blur. He lay back down onto the floor and felt more blood roll from his eyes onto the floor. He looked at his arm again, trying not to panic as his guts full out _growled_ in hunger. Was it the blood doing this to him? He licked his arm, smearing the blood from his mouth onto the wounds. The smell and taste made him whimper. He looked around as the wind howled outside the tower and rain began to drip though the roof slightly. Lightning flashed again. He realized he was sitting in a puddle of his own blood.

This was when he questioned what he was doing. He stood up and watched as the blood began to drip off his skin and into the puddle. He breathed in and felt the red haze over come his vision. He rolled his tongue and clicked it.

This wouldn’t do.

He walked to the side of the room. He fumbled for the screwdriver in his pocket and pulled it out, swearing as the red hade blurred his vision. He unscrewed the panel. He gripped the side before squinting to attempt to see the purple and grey cables. He flicked the switch that connected to the generator in the basement and with a whir and a hum the building came to life.

The lights flickered on and the storm outside seemed to be drowned out slightly until a boom of thunder attempted to threaten the building again.

Strife looked at where he was sat before. He stared at where he’d left his mark.

He padded over slowly, not getting too close but close enough to see the damage he’d caused.

Blood was everywhere, enough to fill a bucket- no, _a drum_.

He looked at his scared arms and hissed as the pain finally hit him. His arms throbbed as they continued to bleed, his tongue stung and his legs burned like he’d stepped into lava.  He fell to his knees and clutched his stomach. He’d been swallowing the blood unconsciously. He pulled the bucket over again.

This was going to be a _long_ night.

 ------------- 

Strife didn’t have a solution for this one.

He was out of ideas, out of luck and out of time.

He had no idea how to answer the questions he himself had made up, but still searched desperately in the pools of his mind for explanations.

He sat at his desk like he had the night before, the papers now stacked neatly and the pens back in the pot. He clutched the washed strands of his short hair, feeling little remains of too much shampoo make his hands slimy. He put them down onto a piece of paper, smearing the gooey liquid onto the empty page. _What the fuck had happened?_

He’d woken from the night before in a puddle of his own blood. It had dripped from the top floor and down to the bottom, splattering on the other floors as it fell.

His hair had stuck to the floor, welded to it like dried glue. His arms weren’t sliced open like the night before, but the little scabs still remained on his arms.

He was surprised to find he hadn’t been sent to respawn by drowning in his own blood.

_Thank god for sleeping on my side…_ he thought grimly.

He’d washed the dried blood off, not really making the effort to scrub it off but to let it wash off on its own. He was thinking about what had caused it. He repeated to himself that for every problem there was a solution. He knew that to get rid of stains from clothes you use bleach. He knew to get blood off your floor you use soap and water. He knew that you don’t just loose your mind overnight. _You don’t loose your mind overnight._

That had actually happened. There was no denying the fact that he had lost unreal amounts of blood overnight and still lived. There was no denying that he’d caught Ridge’s ‘infection’ as he called it. And there was no denying that he too could spread it.

He needed to see someone who knew what they were actually doing, someone who knew about blood and its properties. Also, someone close who didn’t know many people, someone who was just as alone in this big world as he was.

Also, someone with magic would be handy.

Then it clicked.

_Parvis._


	4. Day 30: Take your time, You'll reach me eventually

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strife goes to see if Parv has any answers to his blood stained questions, and finally the infection has reached the main core of our group of heroes.

Bebop stretched his arm forwards again, feeling inclined to investigate what was making him so fast lately. His arm was lighter than before, and he didn’t make nearly as much noise as he did before when he fell down the stairs. Not to mention the fact that he sounded hollow when he knocked his leg or hand on something.

He stretched the limb upwards to listen to the clattering of metal inside his arm go towards his head. He dropped it to clutch the worktable and again the noises rung downwards.

Bebop looked confusingly down at his arm before ripping open the side panel and shaking it over the floor. Pieces of broken circuitry fell out and onto the floor, clattering on the concrete and breaking even more than they head been before.

“What the fuck is this bullshit?” he muttered, eyes squinting and other hand pulling itself into a fist.

He bent down to look at them. They _looked_ like normal at least, but obviously has something wrong with him if they fell out like that. What the hell could be wrong with it? With him?

He rested his elbows on the table and let out a puff of air onto the table, watching the gas that usually ran though him to cool him diffused into the cooler air of the base. The gas was nothing special, just a mix of helium and nitrogen, one unreactive and the other so common it’s found everywhere, so nothing could be wrong with having it inside him.

He stood up from his slump and trotted over to a chest. He hated how his legs clacked rather then the solid clunk they used to, but he didn’t hate being able to run faster and jump higher. A robot all his life, never knowing the joys of being human, without the ability to feel he knows when something isn’t right. Its odd when you think about it.

The worst part about not knowing what was wrong with him was definitely the fact that he noticed the changes but not the uses for them. He was lighter, so what? He jumped higher, useful but not unusual. He could run faster, what’s the point in that when you can fly? He hadn’t noticed any wings like Ridge did, he didn’t feel pain or any change in his general wellbeing. He mostly felt frustrated and cheated for not being the one to start all this off, at being the one to suffer but not the one rewarded.

He was forced to put away his misery when Ridge came falling though the crack in the hanger door, screaming something about Strife and the infection.

\----------

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening, could you repeat that?”

“From when, Parv?”

“I got that Ridge and Robo-Cop came over, but I lost you at the start of the blood. You know when, something about crying blood.”

Strife sighed from where he sat, perched on the ledge of the sorting system with his legs dangling off. Parvis leaned on the edge of the blood altar, letting his fingertips dip into the warm blood coming from the floor below. If it wasn’t for the whirlwind of confusion in both of the men’s heads, buzzing like some addiction for answers, then just maybe Strife would have told Parv to get his filthy fingers from the blood.

Parv listened to the details again. Strife spoke carefully and clearly so the more (how would Will put it) simple minded of the two could hopefully understand.

He left no necessary detail unsaid, stating that Ridge and Bebop requested his assistance. He said how he’d taken their blood, ran tests and did indeed find an odd virus roaming the now winged man’s blood. He said how he never actually touched the blood with bare hands, always wearing rubber gloves and washing them in a bucket of water immediately after. He also began to describe the symptoms he and the other two had felt, though none of them seemed particularly similar when he began to describe them.

“So let me get this straight. They come over, ask for help even though they have the stuff to make the cure themselves. Why would they need to get you involved?”

Strife began to argue, but Parv continued, “Like seriously, they have way more stuff than you, you have a jetpack and that weird axe thing. They have full body armor and a floor literally dedicated to things that they don’t know what they are. Doesn’t it seem at least a little bit odd that they came to you?”

Strife huffed out his impatient reply, “I own a company with Solutions in the name, Parvis, and they obviously came to me because of that.”

“But wouldn’t it have been easier and cheaper to sort it out themselves? I mean, I’m obviously not them, but if I had the stuff I’d wanna save my money and then I wouldn’t spread it!”

“Well it’s a bit late now, isn’t it? They’ve already spread it to me, and-“

“Now its on me as well isn’t it? I need to see Little Wood in an hour, I’m probably gonna give it to him too! Look what you’ve done, you idiot!”

~3 weeks later~

The sun beat down on they dry earth, bullying the resilient lizards and scorpions that dared scuttle out into the dusty landscape. The breeze did nothing to cool the sweaty occupants, but supplied enough force to spin the wind turbines located in between the hills of Craggy Island North. The factory was standing tall and proud in the brain melting heat but cast no forgiving shadow in the mid-day sun.

Only one humanoid figure could be seen dashing in between complex machines that were still left to embrace the rapidly changing elements. This figure, though not human, could easily be mistaken for one. The man was Xephos, the proud and tall spaceman that had crash-landed oh so many years ago. Although he was sweating like there was no tomorrow he refused to take the leather jacket off of his sweat stained back or to drink from the well just outside the complex.

“That water is just filth. It isn’t pure, and will make us sick.” He always clamed, swearing it was true and repeating it enough times to make the others think that too.

While he scuttled about like a lost ant further up the complex was another man, only this time much shorter. He was almost half the height of Xephos and had a scruffy beard and an ancient horned helm perched askew on his fluffy head of ginger hair. “Are you alright down there, Xeph?” he yelled, making a few loose rocks fall as it echoed in the compact area.

“Yeah,” Xephos replied, slightly muffled because of his head being stuck in some odd machine that the dwarf couldn’t even identify, “I’m just working out these cables, they’ve gotten tangled again.” He pulled his head from the machine and scratched his neatly trimmed beard with his left hand, the one not covered in oil. “I swear someone must be doing it to annoy me. Speaking of which, Honeydew, do you know when Duncan should be getting here?”

Honeydew’s head popped out of the window again, only just catching the helm before it fell into the mass of wires below, “He said mid-day, but mid-day lasts forever in summer, so honestly the real answer is no.”

With a sigh of frustration Xephos went back to picking the wires out of their complex knots that he swore were making themselves tighter with each tug of his long fingers.

Meanwhile, Duncan wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it to the island _alive_ , let alone in one piece.

Kim had gotten sick, and her taint seemed to have gotten both worse and better at the same time. It was still there but seemed to have… faded slightly in comparison to what it looked like before. She was able to talk just fine, but this made her able to describe the horrifying pain she was under, to her it felt like her still beating heart was ripped out by a savage pack of zombies.

She left out the detail of how she got it until Duncan had enquired, and even then it left him confused as to what had caused such a horrible pain to be ripping though her like wild fire. She clamed she’d got it from when she visited Little Wood, Toby, Strippin and Parvis a little less then 3 weeks ago, and that she’d been hiding her pain so that the other wouldn’t worry. That plan kind of failed when she passed out while struggling down the stairs in their base.

But that didn’t really matter too much right now; after all he was struggling over the choppy ocean waves while the sun threatened to give him a severe case of heatstroke, or at least what felt like heatstroke at the time. He could barely see Craggy Island in the distance and even then it looked like a squashed bug on a windscreen of a car.

He dropped out the sky for a second, almost hitting the choppy waves of the open sea before correcting himself just as his heavy-duty boots skimmed the top. He lurched himself upwards as fast as he could to avoid nose-diving again, but he didn’t get too far before scraping his face in the dirt of Craggy Island’s shore line.

Honeydew looked downward at the scraping noise coming from towards the dock and couldn’t help but laugh when Duncan’s disheveled face appeared from behind the dirt pile he’d churned up with his rough landing. The dwarf hopped down from where he was perched and used his oddly fitting jetpack to give himself a boost over the small wall. Xephos ran over too, the long, long list of things to do already being repeated though his mind; this went out the window when he saw the pain etched in his usually cheery face.

“What Happened to you Duncan?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while due to an impromptu gaming trip with my family, and a lock on the amount of time i can spend on my computer has really taken its toll on productivity.


	5. Day 35: Symptoms Found, Cure Attempt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parv gets his powers, Kirin makes a deal and Bebop does some running.

"It's rude not to tell someone about the end of the world, you know, especially if that someone could help prevent it."  
Ridge's eyes went wide before crinkling in the corners as a grin spread like an infection across his speckled face. "My, Kirin, my old friend, wouldn't it be ruder to burst though the doors of your home and scream nonsense like that? Plus, I would tell you, but you hate my guts, don't you?"   
Kirin emerged from where he was hiding- or blending in with the basalt of Ridge's base if we were being honest- and stepped slightly closer to the Demi-god, tracing his fingers over the cool metal of the computer. "You do have a point, I suppose you're wondering why I'm here though, correct?"  
"Yeah, you wouldn't come here unless you wanted to fuck with me, even then you wouldn't do it while I was here. What's wrong now, has Luna gained more clones again?"  
Ridge ended with a grin, but that dissolved when Kirin looked over with a glare strong enough to scare the Wither. "No, I won't be annoying you today," he started as he walked towards the cages of Reek and Splug, "but I am here to make an offer. Wanna hear it?"   
Ridge thinned his lips and moved in front of the cages protectively, "Shoot."  
"I can get rid of the wings if you let me examine Parvis' and Strife's illness. I only have enough power at this time to hide the effects and appearance if the wings, but with examining those two will hopefully let me identify what type of illness it is. You know, if its magical spread like taint or my human contact."  
Ridge pursed his lips and hummed, rocking back on the heels of his boots as he did. "What happens if I want the wings, but I can get you those two for you for another offer?"  
Kirin's eyebrow rose up and he smirked, "Oh? You want to keep them do you? May I ask why?" Kirin continued to prowl around the main floor of Ridge's base, looking closely yet uninterested in what they really were or did.  
Ridge swallowed uneasily, stepping back again just to get out of Kirin's immediate striking range. "No specific reason, I just wanna keep them around a little longer, you know. I wanna know how to use them and see if I can use them for an advantage before getting rid of them completely."  
Ridge, now with more confidence, moved over to where he kept his books about the people and creatures of the land, and with a flick of his wrist and a grin in the other mans direction, he scooped up a book with no title and what seemed like hundreds of loose papers that were ready to fall out at any given pull. He held it open in one hand and used the other to turn the pages until reaching one that was filled with hurried and scribbled writing, then he hummed, looked towards Kirin, and slammed it shut before throwing back to the pile and picking another one up with equally messy handwriting.  
"What are you doing?" Kirin squinted and took a few steps closer.  
"These books are from when I used to run the other servers all by myself, before you came along. They've got the identity and general behavior of everyone I've known. I can use it to summon them. You didn’t see a use for them when you took control, remember?"  
"You can summon them to me?" Kirin asked tentatively.  
"Exactly, my dearest storm sage. So who would you like to summon first?"  
\----------------  
Parvis leapt though another portal, screaming with joy as he was launched back into the air, high above his castle. Will watched on from a near by rooftop, but watched more in curiosity than worry.  
Parv had found his power (Will insisted in calling them 'abilities'), and if strife were to honest with himself he'd admit to being jealous. Parv had abilities similar to that of a portal gun; as in, he could place portals wherever he wanted so long as it was a flat surface.   
"Will," he stated as he landed ungracefully beside the other, his sigil making an stomach churning crack in the place of where his ankles would have snapped, "this is so cool! You should've gotten infected sooner!"  
Will huffed and got up from the roof ledge. "Sorry Parvis, but if I'd known I could've gotten my hands on a potentially deadly virus or infection and you'd be happy about spreading it, I would've given it to you sooner."  
Parvis rolled his eyes at Will's tone of voice. "You're no fun. Are you just upset you've got some weird blood thing goin’ on when I'm the one typically involved in that stuff? Or is it because I can actually use mine now and you're still as graceful in this stuff like a new born deer tying to walk?"  
"I am not like a new born deer when it comes to this type of stuff!" Will argued.  
Parvis paused and looked at him quizzically, before breaking out in a grin. Will couldn't comment before Parvis said his next line, "yeah, you're right. I can see you more as a baby giraffe than a deer. I'm just trying to imagine you stumbling around now, kinda like when you were drunk."  
And in all honesty Parvis did deserve that smack.  
\----------  
Bebop jumped over another low bush, its thorns scraping the smooth paneling that he'd polished this morning. He was fully charged, not a single stutter in his step as he bolted over the dry landscape of the desert near to Ridge's home.  
He could just see the eggs on top of the spires from where he was now, but if he hurried me might be able to reach the broken portal and possibly some shelter before it started to rain. He had to admit, even if there wasn't really any obvious symptoms to this illness, it was handy to be able to run so fast and miss the rain that would've soaked him to the power core less than a few weeks ago. Now he just needed to cross over another sand dune in order to get to the strange ice plane near to his castle.   
He heard the first heavy drops of rain hit his exoskeleton and his plating that was usually in a grin shape on the front of his face turned drown into a worried frown. He wouldn't make it, even at his current speed and agility. He slowed down underneath a rocky ledge. He wouldn't make it even if a meteorite had given h special powers.  
Bebop let out a long breath of steam into the chilly air. What made it worse is how he was so close, and how if he'd left his own base less that a minute earlier he would've made it.   
He looked to the sky. In reality the rain wasn't all that heavy yet, but if he did get caught in the chilly down fall, his servos would get locked up and his hydraulics could eventually freeze and burst. Then he’d get stuck in the mud and probably be forgotten about until Ridge went scouting for him. If he did make it, but still got caught in it, he'd have Ridge there to sort him out, thaw his wires and rub the mud off of his rounded feet.  
Was it worth it? Even if just for Ridge to rub his senseless feet? Definitely.   
With a new energy inside him, Bebop sprinted towards the castle, ignoring the groaning from his joints as the rain hit them. If he could just run that little bit faster, that little bit stronger, then he'd make it. He pulled his body forward so his chest was perpendicular with the ground; he squinted his lenses and ran at full pelt toward the basalt castle that stood proudly atop the tallest hill. He could make it, he would make it.  
And then, just like that, he took off. Easily twice the speed as before, he leapt over the bushes he barely scraped though two minutes ago, he kicked off of trees in order to gain height over taller jumps and he dodged the offending arrows and hisses off of the mobs that had begun to spawn in the low light. He felt like he was on fire, hell, he probably was with the way the zombies were ducking as he practically flew past. The rain couldn’t stop him! This was awesome! He could out run a horse, a wolf, even Ridge with his stupid wings! He could break though anything, it made him feel ten feet tall! He was unstoppable!  
"I am unstoppa-!"  
He would be unstoppable if the side of Ridges castle wasn't there.   
When he pulled away and stumbled back before tripping backwards and into the conveniently placed pile of mud behind him. Well at least Ridge will forever be reminded of him once he sees the massive indentation of Bebop's body on the side of his castle.  
Whoops.

**Author's Note:**

> This was something i kinda pulled out of my ass when I was half asleep, and semi-detailed notes make some of the things I want to go though a little fizzy. Lets hope I actually finish this one unlike all the others I've done in this fandom so far!  
> Feel free to leave kudos and comments!


End file.
